


Pyjamas

by Geenee27



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/pseuds/Geenee27
Summary: Whopooh's wonderful October prompt from the Kickstarter Campaign, involving a released snippet from the Miss Fisher movie script, was the reason for this ridiculous piece of silliness. I blame my Kickstarter hangover.





	Pyjamas

The Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher tried again for the front door keyhole with her house key and once again missed it. She giggled and pushed her hairpiece higher up her forehead; it had dropped precariously over her eyes as she fumbled with the keys. _At this rate Ill have to try my lock pick, although I am pretty sure navigating that would be even more futile._ The porch light had been left on but it wasn't helping.

Suddenly the door swung open and if not for the steadying arm of her ever reliable butler, Miss Fisher would have pitched forward into her foyer. Mr. Butler kept one hand to her elbow as she righted herself, adjusted the headpiece once more and gave him a brilliant if lopsided smile.

“Ah, Mr. Butler, my saving grace as always.”

The kindly older man, dressed for bed in pyjamas and robe, smiled slightly and nodded. “Welcome home, Miss. “ He then raised his other hand and acknowledged the cab driver Cec, who was hovering at the gate, to confirm that his charge was safely home.

Phryne proceeded to hand over her wrap and gloves and went to hang her bag on a peg on the hall stand but missed. The beads on her bag made a metallic click as it hit the floor. “Oops,” Her deep, rich laugh rang loudly and then realizing the hour she clapped a hand to her mouth. She straightened, swaying a little, and brought a finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Mustn't wake the rest of the household.” She then bent cautiously to remove her shoes, which she kicked to the side. Mr. Butler regarded her fondly and enquired, “Do you require anything further this evening, Miss?”

“No I think I have had quite enough thank you. I shall retire. Good night Mr. B.” Phryne grinned and danced her way to the stairway leading to the upper floor. 

There she stopped and a puzzled look appeared on her face. Something was not quite right. It took her a moment of trying to pull it from her subconscious, then she had it.

A long, grey overcoat had been slung haphazardly over the bannister, twisted so that the salmon coloured lining flashed back at her. It was wet and covered with the assorted detritus one might expect to find in a filthy, garbage strewn back alley. Over the newel post perched a brown fedora, looking the worse for wear, as if it had been dragged through a hedge backwards and then punched back into a semblance of its normal shape.

“Sorry Miss, I'll just see to these. The Inspector must have returned quite late.” he gingerly picked up the offending articles and headed off to the kitchen to attend to their care.

Miss Fisher smirked as she ascended the stairs. Finding her partner's outerwear draped across the house's fixtures was a first. Jack was usually very meticulous about tidying his personal items away and was in fact still uncomfortable with having others wait on him. It was rather an endearing quality, one of many for this unassuming man that she would never try to change in him; as he would never want to change in her, if she was so inclined. Which she was not. They certainly were a study in contrasts, but somehow that challenge made their dance all the more enticing.

Her eyes became gleeful as she spied a silk tie lying on the floor in front of their bedroom door and a wet suit jacket hanging on the door knob.

 _Well, well. Her Detective Inspector was leaving quite a trail of evidence. What on earth ......?_ The clues were slowing starting to add up. Her eyes crinkled with amusement at the thought of unravelling this mystery and if she was lucky unravelling her Inspector too. She put her hand on the doorknob, her body suddenly thrumming with anticipation.

The room was dark as she entered, however there was enough light from the street lamps that she could make out the general shapes of objects in the light and shadow. She stepped further in and one stocking foot hit something directly inside the door. She looked down and spied a man's brogue at her feet and what looked like another another one peeking out from under the bed skirt.

There came a soft snore from the tangle of bed clothes.

Phryne turned in the direction of her changing screen in the opposite corner and was stopped by another curious site. Trousers and shirt lay on the chaise by the fireplace and a waistcoat had been flung in the general direction of the suit tree beside the wardrobe. As she came closer she noticed the dress shirt had what looked to be drops of something dark on the collar and down the front.

She continued to follow the trail. She peered into the en suite and flipped a light switch. There were a couple of used towels hanging from the shower curtain rod which showed slight traces of washed off blood. 

Phryne retreated, came around to the side of the bed closest to the windows and looked down.

Her partner's face was partially hidden by a nest of pillows but he appeared to be out cold. _He must have been very tired when he dragged himself home from what must have been a very eventful evening._ Phryne continued to inspect him for signs of trauma although truth be told she always loved to watch him when he was unguarded like this. His thick short hair was a wild riot of dark waves against the stark white of the pillow cases. His large hand was curled next to his nose but she could just make out scraped and reddened knuckles. Phryne was getting a little alarmed at this point. She lifted the bedclothes and her gaze followed some slight bruising on the hard muscles of his arm – from sinewy forearm to smooth, pronounced biceps and shoulder. It continued along his broad trapezoid muscles to a narrow, slim definition of waist. The twisted sheet covered his modesty as he lay on his side, one leg sticking out to tease her with a very muscular thigh and calf.

Jack had forgone putting on pyjamas before tumbling into bed. It was a moot point anyways - like waving a red rag at Phryne - she delighted too much in the challenge of finding a myriad of ways to get him out of them.

When her eyes finally travelled to his feet, she firmly pressed her lips together but failed to stifle completely the guffaw that uttered from deep within her diaphragm.

The gentle man in her bed did not stir but one eye lid lifted slightly. “Good.. night.. was.. it?” Came the gravelly voice.

Phryne kept her lips pressed tightly together and went for her guileless look, although she doubted he could see her face in the shadows as she had her back to the windows.

“Very productive. And you? Slight problem getting your man?”

“Ah... no... no..., nothing out of the...... ordinary.” Ordinary unfortunately meant a chase through the foulest of places down at the Melbourne docks, a sucker punch when his man was found and the resulting struggle that had them both off the pier and into the bay. “ Why do you ask?” 

“No reason.” Her voice had risen slightly. She thought about bringing up the trail of clothes from front door to the bed, as it was so uncharacteristic, but decided wisely that maybe teasing would not be well met at the moment so she settled for a small observation.

“You put your heavy wool socks on,” She was trying desperately not to laugh again but suspected the lilt in her voice was not going to save her.

“Your point?”

“Well you took everything else off, not that I'm complaining.”

“I was cold”

The logic defied her so she left it. “Well there is only one thing to do then.”

“Phryne...”

“We need to get warm.” She shivered.

Silence stretched for a beat. Then another beat.

“At the South Pole they say the best way is skin to skin contact.”

“Ah, my resourceful Inspector.”

Phryne reached up and removed her hairpiece and placed it on her vanity. Then she carefully gathered the material of her dress around her hips and pulled it slowly over her head to place it on the chair. She quickly disappeared into the bathroom and after taking care of her ablutions, padded back and deftly disposed of the rest of her accouterments before lifting the bedding and crawling in to snuggle up to the bare chest and arms awaiting her.

His skin wasn't as warm as it usually was so she pulled the blankets up to cover them both completely and added the fur throw for good measure.

“You _are_ freezing.” She confirmed and wrapped herself around him, rubbing his shoulders and arms. Phryne resisted the urge to remind him the bay is not particularly conducive to swimming this time of year.

“Well, it is partially your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“Because wearing my pyjamas is impossible. They always end up everywhere but on me.”

“Ah, so the socks are your revenge.”

“Exactly”

“Hmmmm. Remember...skin to skin. South Pole.”


End file.
